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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/26445007">It lights the whole sky</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/crookedcrown/pseuds/crookedcrown'>crookedcrown</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>The Old Guard (Comics), The Old Guard (Movie 2020)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Community: theoldguardkinkmeme, F/F, M/M</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-09-13</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-10-23</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 05:41:12</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>7</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>10,108</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/26445007</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/crookedcrown/pseuds/crookedcrown</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Inspired by this prompt and subsequent comments: <a href="https://theoldguardkinkmeme.dreamwidth.org/2726.html?thread=659622#cmt659622"> Joe/Nicky - Joe is the trophy husband </a></p><p>Nicky comes from old money and Joe is an actor. They fall in love. (or do they? the trashy tabloids love to speculate)</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Andy | Andromache of Scythia/Quynh | Noriko, Booker | Sebastien le Livre &amp; Joe | Yusuf Al-Kaysani, Joe | Yusuf Al-Kaysani/Nicky | Nicolò di Genova, Minor or Background Relationship(s)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>393</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>1270</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Chapter 1</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>This didn't really hit the beats of the original prompt but hopefully still captured the spirit of it!</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>They are running late to the party. Nicky had been adamant he would not attend. But it was Joe’s warm hands on his shoulders and his kind eyes who, like always, cut through Nicky’s stubbornness like a hot knife. “He’s your father, Nicky.” He slid one hand up to the side of his neck and squeezed. “He’s also old as fuck. Who knows how many birthdays he has left in him?”</p><p>Nicky snorted. The title had always felt hollow to his ears. <em> Father</em>. He had been absent for most of Nicky’s life, the second son and the fourth child of his third wife. It was only after discovering that his first-born son was an actual buffoon who couldn’t run a lemonade stand without falling into debt that he turned his attention to Nicky. Nicky, who was often told, he was more like his father than either one of them would ever care to admit.</p><p>Nicky had never told his father he was gay. </p><p>He introduced Joe to his mother, his sisters and brother. </p><p>But his father had been present at their wedding, and acknowledged Joe with a curt nod. It was an outcome better than anyone could have hoped for. Nicky hates that the bar is so low. </p><p>He knows he doesn't hate his father. But he felt a surety in his heart that he would certainly not miss the man when he was finally gone. </p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>Nicky shuffles into their bedroom in an old, stretched-out t-shirt and a pair of paint-splattered jeans that are too tight across his thighs because they belong to his husband. Joe turns from where he’s facing the mirror, long fingers deftly buttoning up his crisp, white collared shirt. He sighs. “Are you going to be like this every year?”</p><p>Nicky crosses his arms and lifts his chin. “There was no dress code on the invitation.” Yes, he’s going to be like this every year.</p><p>“My love.” Joe strides across the room and cups his face tenderly. “When has any of your family’s parties been anything less than black-tie? Not even the Oscars are this formal.” Nicky kisses him because what else is he supposed to do when Joe’s face is so tantalisingly close. Joe chuckles against his lips. “Are you even listening to me?”</p><p>“Yes, yes.” Nicky says, hurriedly. “My family are old and snooty, I know.” He’s leaning in for another kiss and his hands are tugging at the bottom of Joe’s shirt where it had been neatly tucked in.</p><p>“Nicky,” Joe warns, stepping back. </p><p>“I’ll be quick,” Nicky lies, his hands hovering between them.</p><p>Joe grasps both his wrists. “The sooner we go, the sooner we can leave. Yes?”</p><p>Nicky considers this, and nods slowly. “You are a powerful negotiator, my beautiful husband. You should quit acting and work for me.”</p><p>Joe frowns. “For you?” His beautiful husband starts to unbutton his shirt. Nicky’s eyes track the movement, reveling in the slow reveal of Joe’s collarbone, his chest. Here his hands stop. Only then does Nicky lift his eyes to meet Joe’s gaze. “As in, work under you?” Nicky can only stare, mesmerised by the light reflected in Joe’s eyes, the curve of his lips as he speaks. “And what position would that be?” Joe looks down, as if suddenly shy, peers at him through his lashes. “On my knees, perhaps?” He says it so softly, Nicky may have missed it if he wasn’t standing so close, if his entire world hadn’t already zeroed in on Joe.</p><p>Nicky swallows and shifts closer. “You do excellent work on your knees,” he agrees. With one hand he lifts Joe’s chin, so he can have his eyes on him again. He slips his other hand through the opened gap of Joe’s shirt and slides it across the hard planes of his stomach. “Honestly, Joe. We can spare ten minutes, can’t we? I mean, if we’re already late. You don’t even have to take your clothes off if you don’t want to.”</p><p>Joe rolls his eyes. “How romantic.” He shoves him away. “Please get changed. I’ve even picked your outfit for you. It’s hanging on the door. All you have to do is put it on.”</p><p>“I love you.” Nicky tells him, very seriously. “Even when you make me go to places I don’t want to go, to see people I don’t want to see. Even when you tease me with the promise of sex. <em> Even then. </em> Please marry me.”</p><p>It has become somewhat of a running joke now, but, at the time, Nicky had been mortified. He had meticulously planned the perfect proposal. They were going to go to their holiday house in Malta. Nicky was going to cook Joe’s favourite meal. He had learned it from Joe’s mother. She had understood the implication and cried happy tears while she hugged him. Joe’s father had wandered in several minutes later, and without saying a word, held them both, rocking them from side to side. Nicky loved Joe’s parents fiercely. </p><p>Nicky was going to propose at sunset in their private garden overlooking the ocean. But no, Joe completely ruined those plans, as he was wont to do. Often throwing Nicky’s world off-kilter by virtue of simply existing and being within Nicky’s line of sight.<br/><br/></p><p> </p><p>Growing up, Nicky never believed in things like soulmates and love at first sight. Despite his complicated feelings towards the man, he had inherited his father’s pragmatic nature, business acumen, and, according to his oldest sister, “his resting bitch face”.</p><p>And it wasn’t even love at first sight, technically. Nicky knew who Joe was, had watched several of his films. He knew Joe was tall, and handsome, and talented. But when Nicky had met him, had shook his hand, and Joe had smiled at him, those expressive eyes turned on him, as if Nicky was the only person in the room, it had felt like he had been stabbed through the heart. </p><p>Quynh wrinkled her nose when he had confessed that to her later that night. It was her party, it was her red wine he was slightly drunk on, and it was her wife who was friends with Joe - it had made sense at the time. “Really,” she said, “that’s the phrasing you’re going with?”</p><p>“That’s what it felt like,” he had insisted.</p><p>“You are a lot of things, Nicky,” she replied, not unkindly, and patted his cheek. “But romantic is certainly not one of them.”</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>Nicky scowls when he sees the mob of paparazzi outside his father’s building. This is something he would never understand, would never get used to. What was this fascination they had? Why could they not leave Joe alone? Why would they not let them be happy?</p><p>He schools his features to be carefully blank. When they exit the car, he takes Joe’s hand. He keeps his head down and ignores the shouts and bright flashes. Beside him, Joe is smiling politely.</p><p>He knows what the headlines will say tomorrow. They will call Nicky cold and calculating. And, depending on how tightly they think he is clutching Joe’s hand, possessive. They will continue the speculation that their marriage is a loveless transaction, that Joe had married him for his money and for his own career, and Nicky had only wanted something shiny and beautiful to hang off his arm. Like he was the spitting image of his father.</p><p>Once the doors close behind them, he allows the corner of his lip to dip in anger. But only for a moment. For he has Joe beside him. Joe who is as warm and luminous as the sun, who knows he is loved because Nicky shows him every day and will continue to do so for the rest of his life.<br/><br/><br/></p><p> </p><p>They were in Joe’s old New York apartment, which he kept for sentimental reasons. Joe was too tired to do anything but kiss and be kissed when they had fallen into bed together. Joe always struggled, in the first week or so, after returning from months away on set, to get his sleep cycle back on track. Nicky was just happy to have Joe in his arms again.</p><p>Joe was restless and when he had not returned to bed after his early morning prayers, Nicky went in search for him, and found him in the kitchen.</p><p>“Here, my love.” Joe had said, having expected Nicky, turning to hand him a mug. He looked at Joe, haloed by the early morning light streaming through the window. He was wearing Nicky’s old university t-shirt, looser across his shoulders, and dark blue threadbare pyjama pants. He only had one sock on. The other lost in their bed somewhere during the night.  His curls were tousled and there were still pillow creases imprinted across the side of his face. His eyes were sleepy and warm. Nicky was in love. He was so in love. He did not take the coffee. Instead he dropped to one knee, the ring far away in their Roma villa, and asked Joe to marry him.</p><p>Joe blinked and dropped the mug. The ceramic was surprisingly sturdy, and did not shatter, but the hot coffee spilt everywhere and Nicky winced when it splattered across his legs. He did not rise until Joe had said yes. Of course Joe said yes.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Chapter 2</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>They argue, of course. They have disagreements. But they've only ever had one fight. In the beginning, when it was still new and they didn't know each other so well.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>There’s a flurry of voices all echoing in agreement. Nicky rolls his eyes. Sycophants, the lot of them.</p><p>“Nicolò.” His father’s voice strikes like a lightning bolt, with sharpness and precision, and everyone topples into silence from the rumble of its aftermath.</p><p>It’s just his voice on the phone but it feels like he is standing in the same room as Nicky. He feels his cold, disapproving eyes bore through him. Nicky wants to yell, wants to demand why he forced him here if he just wants to grind him under his thumb, like everybody else.</p><p>He grits his teeth. “Yes, father.” </p><p>When he hangs up, he resists the urge to throw his phone across the room. He puts it down on the table with a strained gentleness.</p><p>He unmutes the TV and let’s the white noise of excited voices wash over him. There are hundreds of people fenced around a red carpet. A reporter is turned toward the camera. Nicky doesn’t listen to what she has to say.</p><p>He’s inspecting the contents of his fridge when a sharp rise in volume has Nicky turning back to the screen. </p><p>“Looks like Joe al-Kaysani has just arrived. You can hear the excitement in the crowd.” The reporter says. “He’s looking very handsome.”</p><p>The reporter is right. Joe looks exquisite in a tuxedo. </p><p>She waves him down and he stops in front of the camera. He’s brought his mother with him as his date. Nicky smiles and leans against his kitchen counter. He takes Joe in. It’s only been a week since he last saw him. He's caught up in the whirlwind of a press tour, promoting his latest movie.</p><p>"It's not a good one." Joe told him. But they offered him a lot of money for a relatively minor supporting role. And there are certainly perks in not having to be the lead sometimes, not having to carry the weight of a movie's success on your shoulders. Joe liked the director well enough. "Maybe I'll do some theatre work."</p><p>Joe greets the reporter warmly. He presses a kiss to his mother’s cheek before she is gently ushered away.</p><p>The reporter asks the same old questions and Joe answers. It’s a credit to Joe that it never sounds rehearsed, even though Nicky knows it is.</p><p>“You brought your mother as your date.”</p><p>“She is my biggest fan, it seems only fair.”</p><p>Nicky’s scrolling through food delivery options on his phone when he hears his name.</p><p>“We were hoping you would bring Nicolò DiGenoa.”</p><p>Joe looks as surprised as Nicky feels. This has gone off script. “I-- why?”</p><p>“There’s been a lot of photos surfacing recently. There are rumours you two are an item.”</p><p>“Ah,” Joe says. He rubs the back of his neck, eyes darting around. “No, we’re just friends.”</p><p>“<em>Really </em>?” The reporter presses. “So you’re still single then?”</p><p>Joe carefully doesn’t look at the camera. “Yes,” he says. “I’m still single.”</p><p>Nicky doesn’t hear the rest of it. There’s a tight pressure building inside his chest and a high-pitched ringing in his ears. They hadn’t talked about it, and yet, Nicky had thought, had hoped--</p><p>He calls his pilot. He flies to New York. He makes it into Joe’s apartment before Joe returns from the afterparty. </p><p> </p><p>Nicky’s facing the window when the door opens. “My doorman told me he let you in. Honestly, have you ever been denied anything in your life?” There’s humour in Joe’s words but Nicky is not in the mood. </p><p>“You.” His answer feels like a boulder dropped into a body of water that’s too shallow.</p><p>The door shuts. He can feel Joe’s eyes on him. He turns.</p><p>“What?” Joe finds the answer in the silence and nods. “You saw the interview.” He takes a couple of steps forward, then decides to sit on the back of his sofa, facing Nicky. He scrubs a hand across his face. “I don’t know what you expected.” He says it so matter-of-factly, Nicky feels anger flare in his chest. “If I said I was dating every man who has taken me out to dinner--”</p><p>“And fucks you?” Nicky immediately regrets his words, the sharpness of his tone. But he can’t take it back.</p><p>Joe’s eyes snap up. Nicky can see the bright spark of hurt before Joe buries it. “Yes, Nicolò.” His voice is flat and even. “And <em> fucks me </em>.”</p><p>Nicky closes his eyes for a moment to collect himself. “That’s not what I meant--”</p><p>“I know what <em> you meant </em>.” Joe hisses and turns away. Nicky reaches out but Joe shrugs him off. He stalks to the other side of the room, back turned to Nicky. “Is that what you think of me?”</p><p>“No,” Nicky says into the space between them. “No.”</p><p>Joe braces his hands against the wall. “You are all the same.” Nicky stays silent. He can’t trust himself to speak right now. “You only want me until you have me.” Nicky feels ashamed. He turns his anger onto himself. How thoughtless he is with his words. He never wants to be the cause of Joe's pain. He only every wants to be the source of his happiness. There's still so much Nicky has to learn and unlearn about himself. “If you’ve come here to end things. Just do it. Just leave.”</p><p>This spurs Nicky into action. He crosses the room until he’s standing behind Joe. His hands hover by his sides before he gently rests them on Joe’s hips. “Joe, please. Please look at me.” He exerts a small amount of pressure to coax Joe to turn. Joe resists for a moment, then relents.</p><p>He slides a hand up against Joe’s chest. A grounding touch, he hopes. “I didn’t come here to end things.” He takes a deep breath and looks into Joe’s eyes. “I came here to tell you I love you.” He feels Joe’s breath stutter. </p><p>The word love had only ever been used as a tool in his family. To be withheld to ensure obedience and compliance. To be hurled like a weapon in fits of anger to cause the most damage. But with Joe, Nicky had realised what love truly was. A gift to be treasured, to be nurtured. Something more precious than anything his family has ever owned.</p><p>“Even if you don’t love me back, I need you to know.” And he does, he tells Joe, “I love you.”</p><p>For a long moment, neither of them move. Then Joe surges forward to kiss him. Nicky clings to him, pushes forward to match each ferocious kiss with his own. “I love you,” he says again. Joe sags against him, his face pressed against Nicky's shoulder. Nicky holds him, clutches him to his chest. “I love you.”</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>Nicky wakes up in Joe’s arms. He wants to let Joe sleep, but he also wants to touch, to feel Joe, warm and solid against him. He squirms and shifts until he’s facing Joe. His eyes are still closed but Nicky knows he’s awake now. Joe mumbles something that sounds like a protest and Nicky finally settles, let’s his eyes take Joe in. Soft in the beams of sunlight peeking through the curtains neither of them had closed properly last night.</p><p>He cups a hand to Joe’s cheek. Joe nuzzles into it. Nicky inches in closer. He removes his hands so he can tuck his face into the crook of Joe’s neck and inhales. He curls his arm around Joe’s back, combs his fingers in his hair, and then rocks up against him.</p><p>Joe inhales sharply. He feels Joe speak more than he hears it. “Oh, you want sex?” His voice is husky from sleep. </p><p>Nicky can’t help but roll his hips up against Joe again. “Maybe later.” He says to Joe, to himself. Definitely later. “For now, I just want to look at you.” He shifts back a little, so he can do just that.</p><p>Joe opens his eyes then and Nicky’s heart feels full. </p><p>Nicky rubs his thumb against Joe’s eyebrow, swipes it across his cheekbone, presses it gently against the divot of his dimple.</p><p>Joe’s eyes flutter close. Nicky brushes his fingertips across the delicate skin of Joe’s eyelids and feels the soft quiver of his eyelashes. Joe sighs deeply and when he opens his eyes again, he says, “I love you.”</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Thank you for all the kudos and taking the time to share your kind and supportive comments! I'm glad you're on board with this 'verse. I have certainly felt very inspired!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Chapter 3</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Steven Merrick is the worst example of Hollywood nepotism.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>What Steven Merrick lacks in talent, he makes up for in ambition and the thoughtless squandering of the goodwill his family spent three generations building. It’s unsurprising he has wormed his way into this audition. With Andy as the director and Joe already cast as one of the leads, anyone who was anyone was trying to get in on the project.</p><p>“It was a compromise.” Andy told Joe, looking at his appalled face.</p><p>She and Quynh had their sights set on a French actor, Le Livre. The studio was reluctant to cast someone who wasn’t well-known in the States, and there were persistent rumors of a drinking problem that made him difficult to work with. It was risky on many fronts, Nicky could understand that. </p><p>But he had also seen Le Livre’s most recent film, the one that had caught Andy and Quynh’s attention. A desolate soldier trapped in the unforgiving wilderness of Russia, fighting a war he didn’t believe in, and then hanged for his desertion. It was bleak, but Le Livre had been sublime. </p><p>The compromise meant Joe had to do a chemistry reading with both men.</p><p>Merrick’s already in the room, pacing, and reciting <em> King Lear </em>, of all things.</p><p>“Joe!” He greets with a flourish, arms open, like they’re old friends. </p><p>Joe, in turn, shows a tremendous amount of restraint in not shoving Merrick away when he’s enveloped in a one-sided hug. Absolutely not reading the situation, Merrick plants a kiss on each of Joe’s cheeks and continues to stand too close.</p><p>“Steven,” Joe says briskly, stepping back, “you remember my husband, Nicky.”</p><p>From the initial confusion on Merrick’s face it is clear that he, in fact, had not remembered Joe’s husband Nicky.</p><p>He recovers, says, “Of course.” Smiles thinly. “Ciao, bello.”</p><p>Nicky feels no obligation to be nice to Merrick, so he just looks at him, deeply unimpressed.</p><p>They’re saved from having to interact with him any further when Andy bursts into the room with a trail of people in her wake. Merrick joins the procession. He has a lot of opinions he would like to share.</p><p>Joe looks mournful when he says, almost to himself, “I have to kiss that man.”</p><p>“Yes, dear.” Nicky squeezes his arm. “Your life is very difficult.”</p><p> </p><p>Merrick comes in with too much energy, too loud, for the scene, too much frenetic movement. <em> He </em>is too much. He also appears to be trying to work his tongue into Joe’s mouth, but Joe is not having it. Their faces look more like they’re locked in a battle than uniting in a poignant declaration of love.</p><p>Andy sighs, then shouts, “cut!” Joe immediately jerks away. He turns and discreetly wipes his mouth with the back of his hand. Eyes briefly catching Nicky’s in disbelief.</p><p>“Steven,” Andy says, jaw clenched. “I need you to tone it down. By a lot. Go as low as you think you can, and then go lower.” She goes on to reiterate the character’s motivations, the challenges he's facing. He nods along with the cloudy eyes of someone who will not heed her advice.</p><p>The second time around is slightly better only because Joe knows what to expect and works harder to salvage the scene. But even in Joe’s tender and capable hands, he is only one man, and there’s only so much even he can do.</p><p>The third time, Merrick grabs Joe by the throat and tries to pin him to the wall. Nicky tenses but Andy ends the scene by physically inserting herself between the two men, pushing Merrick away. </p><p>“What the hell was that?” Joe shouts over Andy’s shoulder.</p><p>Merrick is mumbling something about seizing the opportunity.</p><p>Andy can tell by the look on Joe’s face that if he has to kiss Steven Merrick one more time, it will be with teeth and blood.</p><p>She sends him away and tells him to be back in an hour.<br/>
<br/>
<br/>
</p><p>They decide to stay on the lot. Neither of them felt like dashing back and forth across streets to avoid the ever present paparazzi. Always desperate to snap photos of Joe talking with his mouth half full, Joe clutching a cup of coffee, Joe squinting at his phone. And Nicky, by his side, slightly out of focus, glaring.</p><p>They head to the cafeteria and see Quynh with Merrick’s rival. He looks tired and rumpled, hunched over a mug of lukewarm coffee. It’s a slightly underwhelming sight. But given the depths of his performance and the sharpness in his eyes when they shake hands, Nicky knows there is more to this man.</p><p>“How did it go with Merrick?” Quynh asks after they’ve all made their introductions and settled into their seats.</p><p>Joe just shakes his head. “He tried to stick his tongue down my throat.”</p><p>“Many times,” Nicky adds helpfully.</p><p>“Yikes.” Quynh mutters and can’t help a horrified shudder.</p><p>“Right,” Sébastien says, holding up a finger, like he’s trying to clarify a point. “So I <em> shouldn’t </em>try to do that then? I’ll have to rethink my process, but that's good to know.”</p><p>Nicky and Quynh share a look over Joe’s delighted burst of laughter. She looks extremely pleased with herself.</p><p> </p><p>“Do you always come with Joe to his readings?” Sébastien asks Nicky. Joe and Quynh are ahead of them, chatting and laughing.</p><p>Nicky can parse what Sébastien actually means between his words. Will he have to deal with a jealous husband. He doesn’t care what this man may think of him, but he does care what it may imply about Joe.</p><p>“We are going to the airport when Joe is done.” Nicky’s eyes flit to the man beside him. He shouldn’t be surprised that Sébastien also has an impressive poker face. “We always spend time together before he starts filming.”</p><p>He thinks Sébastien may understand what he’s saying in return.</p><p>He isn’t here because he doesn’t trust Joe.</p><p>Sébastien considers his response, and nods.</p><p> </p><p>His delivery is a little more gruff, rough around the edges. But he sounds very much like a man, after repressing it for so long, on the brink of succumbing to his desires. Tentatively hopeful that his feelings are returned. He injects a desperate longing into his words, his body turned towards Joe, shifting closer, as the scene unfolds, drawn to him like a magnet. It feels almost inevitable then, when he leans forward, a hand tilting Joe’s face up towards him, so their lips can finally meet.</p><p>A hush falls over the room.</p><p>Andy looks over at Nicky, her eyes triumphant.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. Chapter 4</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>'Things You Can't Forget' stars Joe al-Kaysani and Sebastián Le Livre take the WIRED Autocomplete Interview and answer the internet's most searched questions about themselves.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>AL-KAYSANI: Hi, I’m Joe al-Kaysani.</p><p>LE LIVRE: And I’m Sebastián Le Livre.</p><p>BOTH: We are doing a WIRED autocomplete interview.</p><p>AL-KAYSANI: We nailed that.</p><p>LE LIVRE: It only took us six tries.</p><p>AL-KAYSANI: We are professionals at reading and saying things.</p><p>LE LIVRE: But not at the same time.</p><p><br/>
<br/>
AL-KAYSANI: Have you ever googled yourself?</p><p>LE LIVRE: No. I am afraid to.</p><p>AL-KAYSANI: You should be. I did it once. I have never recovered.</p><p> </p><p>AL-KAYSANI: Do I just hold it like this?</p><p>LE LIVRE: You’re holding it upside down.</p><p>AL-KAYSANI: How about now?</p><p>LE LIVRE: No.</p><p>AL-KAYSANI: How about now?</p><p>LE LIVRE: Just give it to me.</p><p>AL-KAYSANI: We’re supposed to take turns!</p><p> </p><p>AL-KAYSANI: Is Sebastián Le Livre French?</p><p>LE LIVRE: Yes.</p><p>AL-KAYSANI: Extremely French. He would have fought for Napoleon.</p><p>LE LIVRE: Not true. I am a lover, not a fighter.</p><p>AL-KAYSANI: So you keep claiming.<br/>
<br/>
</p><p><br/>
LE LIVRE: Why is Joe al-Kaysani? Why is Joe al-Kaysani? Maybe it's a typo?</p><p>AL-KAYSANI: This is a good question. I ask myself the same thing every day.</p><p>LE LIVRE: Do you have an answer?</p><p>AL-KAYSANI: I do not.</p><p>LE LIVRE: Is this what you googled? Is this your own question?</p><p>AL-KAYSANI: Maybe.</p><p> </p><p>AL-KAYSANI: What is Sebastián Le Livre's favourite dish? Sushi and my mum’s b’stilla.</p><p>LE LIVRE: That was my question.</p><p>AL-KAYSANI: Oh, sorry.</p><p>LE LIVRE: I also like Joe’s mum’s b’stilla.</p><p> </p><p>LE LIVRE: How tall is Joe al-Kaysani?</p><p>AL-KAYSANI: I am 6 foot.</p><p>LE LIVRE: Exactly?</p><p>AL-KAYSANI: Exactly.</p><p>LE LIVRE: That sounds like a lie, but okay.</p><p>AL-KAYSANI: Why would I lie about that?</p><p>LE LIVRE: You lie to me all the time.</p><p>AL-KAYSANI: I said there wasn't anything on your face. I didn't say anything about your teeth.</p><p>LE LIVRE: Teeth are part of the face.</p><p>AL-KAYSANI: Teeth are part of your bones.</p><p>LE LIVRE: That's a horrifying thought. And technically true, I guess.</p><p>AL-KAYSANI: You currently don't have anything on your face bones.</p><p>LE LIVRE: Thanks.</p><p><br/>
<br/>
AL-KAYSANI: What was Sebastián Le Livre’s first movie?</p><p>LE LIVRE: I don’t want to say.</p><p>AL-KAYSANI: Why?</p><p>LE LIVRE: It’s very bad. Please don't watch it.</p><p>AL-KAYSANI: I will look it up after this interview and then I will tell everybody on Twitter.</p><p>LE LIVRE: You don’t have Twitter.</p><p>AL-KAYSANI: I will create an account just so I can tell everybody on Twitter.<br/>
<br/>
<br/>
</p><p>LE LIVRE: Joe al-Kaysani curls<br/>
<br/>
AL-KAYSANI: That's not a question.</p><p>LE LIVRE: More than one person had to have searched for this.</p><p>AL-KAYSANI: But why?</p><p>LE LIVRE: Don't kink shame.</p><p>AL-KAYSANI: I'm not!</p><p>LE LIVRE: I can confirm he has curls. They are very soft.</p><p> </p><p>AL-KAYSANI: How old is Sebastián Le Livre?</p><p>LE LIVRE: Old.</p><p>AL-KAYSANI: Very old. Old as balls. That's the official unit of measurement in France, yes? </p><p>LE LIVRE: Yes, we the inventor of the metric system have abandoned metres and grams in favour of balls.</p><p> </p><p>LE LIVRE: Joe al-Kaysani eyes</p><p>AL-KAYSANI: What?</p><p>LE LIVRE: Just abandoning any semblance of propriety now. Just straight to body parts. I predict "Joe al-Kaysani butt" is next.</p><p>AL-KAYSANI: My butt is probably on the internet.</p><p>LE LIVRE: You've done a few nude scenes in your time.</p><p>AL-KAYSANI: All very tasteful.</p><p>LE LIVRE: Sure they are. I can also confirm Joe indeed has eyes. Also, very soft.</p><p> </p><p>AL-KAYSANI: How is Sebastián Le Livre? Aw, that's nice.</p><p>LE LIVRE: I'm a bit hungry, if I'm being honest.</p><p>AL-KAYSANI: Me too. We're eating after this.</p><p>LE LIVRE: Your mum's b'stilla?</p><p>AL-KAYSANI: I'll call her.</p><p> </p><p>LE LIVRE: What is Joe al-Kaysani doing right now? That's very specific. Would google know this answer?</p><p>AL-KAYSANI: I don't even know what I'm doing half the time.</p><p>LE LIVRE: In the time I've known you, you've made that very clear.</p><p> </p><p>LE LIVRE: Who is Yusuf al-Kaysani? </p><p>AL-KAYSANI: Me. My full name is Yusuf ibn Ibrahim ibn Muhammad ibn al-Kaysani.</p><p>LE LIVRE: Impressive.</p><p>AL-KAYSANI: Unfortunately, I couldn’t fit it on my Screen Actors membership form.</p><p><br/>
<br/>
AL-KAYSANI: What colour are Sebastián Le Livre’s eyes? I know this!</p><p>LE LIVRE: Go on then. No, don’t look at me now.</p><p>AL-KAYSANI: They... are... blue...?</p><p>LE LIVRE: Congratulations. You have only been staring at my face for the last year-and-a-half.</p><p>AL-KAYSANI: There’s a lot to remember.</p><p><br/>
<br/>
LE LIVRE: Is Joe al-Kaysani a good kisser?</p><p>AL-KAYSANI: I’m going to say yes.</p><p>LE LIVRE: I’m not sure if that’s an objective answer.</p><p>AL-KAYSANI: You answer it then.</p><p>LE LIVRE: I’ve had worse.</p><p>AL-KAYSANI: Thank you.</p><p>LE LIVRE: Sometimes he likes to use his teeth.</p><p>AL-KAYSANI: Stop telling everyone my secret moves!</p><p>LE LIVRE: I'm sorry. I meant your face bones.</p><p><br/>
<br/>
AL-KAYSANI: Who is Booker Le Livre? (LAUGHS)</p><p>LE LIVRE: (SIGHS) Do you want to answer this one?</p><p>AL-KAYSANI: (STILL LAUGHING)</p><p>LE LIVRE: Le Livre translates to ‘the book’ in French. Joe thinks he’s hilarious.</p><p>AL-KAYSANI: (STILL LAUGHING)</p><p><br/>
<br/>
LE LIVRE: Who is Joe al-Kaysani married to?</p><p>AL-KAYSANI: My husband’s name is Nicky. And that’s all I’m going to say about that.</p><p>LE LIVRE: Trust me, you guys have been spared.</p><p> </p><p>“This is desperately sad,” Andy says from over his shoulder.</p><p>Nicky pauses the video. “I am supporting my husband.”</p><p>“How many times have you watched this?”</p><p>“Twice.”</p><p>Andy hmms with great suspicion but returns to the kitchen. The ominous banging picks up again. He won’t tell her about the other videos, including the compilation someone edited to include all the times Joe has said <em> my husband </em> or <em> Nicky in </em>interviews<em>. </em> It’s over 6 minutes long. Sometimes the internet isn’t so bad.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Heavily, heavily inspired by the beautiful chaotic energy of <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=stLw-2Ob8xQ"> Oscar Isaac &amp; Pedro Pascal's </a> and <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=z2VZ_OGz0RU">Ryan Reynolds &amp; Jake Gyllenhaal's</a> interviews. If you have not seen them, I highly recommend you do.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0005"><h2>5. Chapter 5</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“There are two things you need to know about an al-Kaysani film,” Quynh says, dragging her oversized bean bag across the floor. She pauses to hold up two fingers for emphasis. “One, his voice will be gentle. And two,” she looks at Nicky to make sure he’s paying attention, “he’s eyes will be devastating.”</p><p>Nicky, stretched out on the sofa, a plate of cheese balanced on his chest, squints back at her.</p><p>Andy’s in the midst of filming a spy movie somewhere in Belgium. It’s a tongue-in-cheek, gender-flipped homage to the old James Bond films, Quynh explained over dinner. Joe had been cast as what was essentially the <em> femme fatale </em> with the <em> tragic past </em>.</p><p>With Andy as the lead, the film is expected to do well. She is the most bankable action star of the last decade. But it will do better than anyone could have predicted. It will strike a chord with the audience, bringing back some of the fun and charm the more recent Bond films lacked. It will crush its competition and be the film of the summer. And it will launch Joe’s career into the stratosphere.</p><p>It will also be the last movie Andy stars in before she effectively retires so she can try her hand at directing. </p><p>But all that comes later.</p><p> </p><p>Quynh seemed personally offended when Nicky told her he hadn’t seen any of Joe’s films. “This isn’t going to be one of those movies where nothing happens for 90 minutes, is it?”</p><p>Flopped onto the bean bag, Quynh lifts her leg to try and jab at him with her toes, but she’s too far away. “You are such a philistine.”</p><p>He points a piece of fontina at her. “It is, isn’t it?”</p><p>She points back, cheeseless, so it's less effective. “Don’t say I didn’t warn you.” </p><p>Within the first ten minutes, Nicky is bored. Nothing is happening. Joe hasn't even appeared. He picks at the cheese. His stomach said stop a while back, but his Italian heart urged him on. He hopes Quynh won’t quiz him about the movie later. He hears her shifting in her bean bag, and quickly looks back to the screen, in case she was turning to glare at him.</p><p>A man emerges from a building, but the camera is tracking him from behind. They follow him down the street. His shoulders taking up most of the bottom third of the frame. He pauses to light a cigarette. There’s a shout and he looks over his shoulder. His face stoic until he recognises the person. Then like a ripple in a pond revealing the hidden world it had thrumming beneath its surface, his expression shifts. His eyes soften, the corner of his mouth hitches up. It’s the slightest of movements, and yet it lights up his whole face. The camera lingers here. It knows it's struck gold and is unashamed in exploiting it.</p><p>Nicky shoves the plate to the ground and scrambles to sit upright. He stays in this position until the credits roll. He cradles his face in his hands. He can feel the wetness in his eyes, clinging to his lashes, and a deep ache in his chest.</p><p>He can hear Quynh straining to escape the beanbag. In other circumstances, Nicky would have been delighted in witnessing this struggle. But right now it feels like someone is squeezing his heart with both hands. There’s a soft thud followed by a string of curses. The seat beside him dips and Quynh rests a hand on his back.</p><p>She sighs deeply and says, “I told you so.” He snorts into his hands as she pulls him into a hug.</p><p> </p><p>Andy looks up from her phone as Joe takes his seat beside her. He has a coffee in one hand and the script in the other. He pretends to read it when he can't retreat into his trailer and wants to be left alone. Andy is the only one who ignores that cue.</p><p>He puts his coffee in the cup holder and idly flips through the pages. “What do you know about Nicolò DiGenoa?”</p><p>“Well,” she finishes typing out her email and fires it off. “I know he prefers to be called Nicky.”</p><p>He sinks further into his seat. “That’s good to know, I guess.”</p><p>Andy drops her phone onto her lap. “So you’re thinking about it?”</p><p>Joe shrugs. "It’s always weird when friends set you up. Feels like there’s more pressure.”</p><p>Andy gets that. Quynh can be very persistent. </p><p>“We'll invite him to the wrap party. If you don’t like him, we’ll never speak of it again.” When Joe doesn’t respond, Andy pushes on. “You said no more actors, right? After what’s-his-face?” She knows his name, but she’s not going to say it. That cheating piece of shit.</p><p>“I did say that." He abandons the script. "I suppose I’m tired of getting my hopes up."</p><p>Andy reaches over to hold Joe’s hand. She knows how lucky she is to have Quynh.</p><p>“We’re not going to be offended if you don’t end up liking each other. But we will be very smug if you end up getting married.”</p><p>Joe rolls his eyes. “Sure. If we get married, you can be my best woman.”</p><p>Andy seals it with a reassuring squeeze of their joined hands. “Deal.”</p><p> </p><p>Joe sighs when he sees the men holding cameras loitering outside his building. They’re already perking up at the sight of a sleek car pulling up to the curb.</p><p>“I’m going to make a run for it,” Joe decides. “It’s not going to look very dignified.”</p><p>Nicky huffs a laugh.</p><p>Joe’s hand hovers over the door handle. He turns to look back at Nicky. “Thank you for dinner. I enjoyed myself tonight.”</p><p>Nicky had hoped. He's glad to hear Joe say it.</p><p><br/>
The date had started off fine, with all the initial awkward tension that comes with all first dates, no matter who you are. Joe entered through the back to avoid as many prying eyes as possible. The implosion of his last relationship had made Joe the tabloids’ flavour of the month, several months running.</p><p>Nicky regretted his choice of restaurant as soon as he walked through the door. It had a three-month waiting list, and felt both barren and pretentious at the same time. He shouldn't have listened to his sister. There was also an implied dress code, which Joe did not adhere to with his t-shirt, jeans and leather jacket. He was the most underdressed and yet was still the most captivating person in the room. Nicky wondered if this was an inherent ability some actors possessed. It was a feat he witnessed Andy pull off many times.</p><p>Joe was flustered after he made a joke about wanting a Fanta - after he revealed he didn’t really drink, so Nicky returned the wine menu - and their waiter, Ibrahim, had insisted on dashing out to retrieve one for him. </p><p>“Oh no,” Joe said, hands on his face. “He’s going to think I’m one of <em> those </em>people.”</p><p>“I doubt that,” Nicky saw how the waiter had looked at Joe, wrestling to maintain his professionalism, and how all pretence fell away when Joe asked him for his name.</p><p>“Ibrahim,” Joe had repeated. “That's also my father’s name.” Ibrahim would have done anything Joe asked for in that moment. He would have snatched a Fanta from the hands of a sickly child.</p><p>“You took the time to speak with him in a way, I’m sure, no-one here ever has. You have given him a story to share. One he will be retelling for many years to come.”</p><p>Joe’s smile reached his eyes in a way, Nicky realised, his previous smiles did not. Joe relaxed in increments after that.</p><p><br/>
“I would like to see you again.” There’s just enough light streaming through the car window to be caught and trapped in Joe's liquid eyes. Those eyes. <em>Devastating,</em> Quynh had promised.</p><p>Nicky wants to kiss him. But he understands Joe is in a precarious position. Nicky had pursued him, paid for dinner. They are in Nicky’s car. He suspects Joe has been in similar positions before. He doesn’t want Joe to think of him like that. “I would like that very much.”</p><p>Joe undoes his seatbelt and leans towards Nicky. They both keep their eyes open as Joe carefully brushes his lips ever so slightly against Nicky’s. Nicky doesn’t push forward, but oh, he wants to. Joe presses a kiss on the corner of Nicky’s mouth.</p><p>Then he is back at the door. “I’m going to make a run for it.” He repeats. “Don’t watch me. I want you to still respect me in the morning.”</p><p>Nicky makes a show of covering his eyes. He hears the door open and close. He hears a chorus of muffled shouting. But mostly he hears the furious beating of his own heart.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0006"><h2>6. Chapter 6</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“Fuck!” Quynh shouts. Nicky can barely hear her over Andy’s triumphant hollering. “I was so sure you--” She shushes Andy, “--were going to do it at the end of the year, Nicky. In Malta.”</p><p>They had finally gotten off the video call with what felt like, as they passed the tablet around, Joe’s entire extended family. There was so much laughter and cheer. And a lot of tears. Nicky held it together remarkably well until Joe’s grandmother started to cry, while Joe’s mum hugged her close. She said something Nicky’s rudimentary Arabic couldn’t pick up between her hiccuping sobs. “She’s saying,” Joe told him, eyes shining, “she’s happy. Her heart is full. She loves you.” Then Joe started to cry (again), and then Nicky cried. After they hung up, they held each other for a while, trading slow, wet, breathless kisses. I’m going to marry this man, Nicky thought over and over again.</p><p>Now they had Quynh and Andy on speakerphone. Both reluctant to show their swollen, tear-stained faces at risk of endless ridicule.</p><p>“That was the plan.” Nicky turns his guilty eyes to Joe who raises both eyebrows in surprise. He mouths that he’ll explain later as Quynh groans.</p><p>“How much did you lose?” Joe asks.</p><p>“One thousand dollars. One thousand dollars! <em>To my own wife</em>.” They can hear Andy say something. Quynh sighs. “Andy wants me to cut her a cheque, so she can frame it and hang it in the study.” There’s more loud crowing. “How did you do it then? At least give me that.”</p><p>Nicky tells her.</p><p>Quynh is silent for a long moment.</p><p>“Do you know what I’m going to write in that space the cheque leaves for notes?” She doesn’t wait for a response. “<em> Nicky’s heart too horny for Joe</em>.” Nicky would be more offended if it wasn’t so accurate. “I guess that’s my own fault,” she says after another pause, “for not realising that sooner.” She shushes Andy again. “Oh,” she adds, before hanging up, “I guess, congratulations, or whatever.”</p><p>It takes another two weeks before Joe gets his ring. Nicky clutches it in one hand as he climbs into bed. He’s in shorts and Joe is shirtless, lying on the covers. Another heatwave long outstaying its welcome well into the night. Joe doesn’t like turning on the air-conditioning until it gets truly unbearable. He's sucking on an ice cube. Something he’s done since he was a kid when AC was more of a luxury than it is now. Joe says it's for the environment, but Nicky knows Joe likes to turn it into a competition of who can withstand the heat the longest.</p><p>They look at each other and Nicky knows Joe’s about to cave. When he opens his mouth, Nicky points over Joe’s shoulder and says, “what’s that?”</p><p>With Joe distracted, Nicky grabs his hand and slides the ring onto his finger. Joe has to spit the ice cube out into his other hand so he can laugh in outrage.</p><p>Nicky dots kisses all over the back of Joe's hand. His lips lingers on the warm metal of the ring. “You ridiculous man.”</p><p>“You already said yes,” Nicky needlessly reminds him.</p><p>Joe looks at the ring and smiles. “I did.” Nicky watches him suck the ice cube back into his mouth. He cups the cool, damp hand to Nicky’s face. “Beautiful,” he says, not looking at the ring.</p><p> </p><p>The first time Joe had woken up to Nicky watching him sleep, he wasn’t immediately creeped out by it. So of course, Nicky had to say, “As much as I love watching you sleep, I love watching you wake up beside me even more.”</p><p>His lover’s sweet, handsome face scrunched, brow furrowed, as he processed what Nicky had said. Nicky learned early on in their relationship that Joe was not a morning person, but also refused to go to bed early to compensate. He was infamous on sets for falling asleep in dark corners and odd crevices. Interns and junior crew members frequently sent on a Joe hunt. Nicky had amassed an impressive collection of photos sent in from Andy and Quynh of Joe curled up, often in one of Nicky’s hoodies, looking warm and soft. Sometimes contorted into a position that made Nicky wince in sympathy, his shirt hiked up, a leg sticking out.</p><p>“I want to do this for the rest of my life.” He continued. And he had meant it. Every single word.</p><p>And Joe, always at his least eloquent when waking up, sighed, “That would be nice.” Then he pulled Nicky in for a kiss that blossomed through his entire body, and said so much more.</p><p> </p><p>They are apart the first time Joe appears in public wearing the engagement ring. Joe arriving in London to start rehearsals for a Tennessee Williams' play on the West End, and Nicky stuck in Roma with back-to-back meetings until the end of the week.</p><p>When their family lawyer calls, Nicky knows his father knows. He could let it ring out, but it would be delaying the inevitable.</p><p>“James,” he greets.</p><p>“Nicolò, congratulations.”</p><p>Nicky likes James. He is the right shade of morally grey, where he can and will push back on his father, when needed, and also competent enough to continue to remain employed. “Thank you.”</p><p>“There is no delicate way to phrase this. My team is currently drafting a prenuptial agreement--”</p><p>“No,” Nicky interrupts, “absolutely not.”</p><p>“This is not a slight against you, and certainly not against Joe. Anyone who marries into this family has to sign one, including your mother.”<br/><br/></p><p>Nicky was pulled out of class early, his mother’s personal assistant waiting for him by the school’s entrance. Once inside the house, she directed him to his parent’s bedroom. He stood by the door, looking at his mother’s opened suitcase, already half filled with clothes. She appeared from her closet, holding another armful. She saw Nicky and paused.</p><p>“Your father can’t keep treating me like this.” She always said it like that. <em> Your father. </em>“Like an object, a thing he can hide away when he has no use for me.” She dropped the clothes, and pushed her hair away from her face with both hands. “I could have had any man I wanted.” Nicky has heard this all before. “I was going to be a star.” Her eyes glazed over, recalling dreams long out of reach. “But I married your father, didn’t I?”</p><p>She was 23 when she married his father, 19 years his junior. She was a beauty. Her hair a dark, rich brown. Tall and athletic. Her eyes were like the ocean both in its inscrutable colour and in its temperament. He has his mother’s eyes. The only thing, she liked to remind him when she was in one of her moods, that he inherited from her.</p><p>“Where will you go?” Nicky asked. If she had just wanted to leave, she wouldn’t have brought him here.</p><p>Her eyes snapped back at him, pulled from her thoughts. She beckoned him closer. Once he reached her, she sank to her knees and held him by the shoulders. “I will stay with my friend Antonio. Do you remember my friend Antonio?” Yes. Nicky remembered his mother’s friend Antonio. He had dark shaggy hair, an irritating braying laugh, and held his mother's hand when they thought he wasn't looking. He hated Antonio. “Do you want to come with me?”</p><p>Nicky regarded his mother. She wasn't wearing make-up. A rarity. Her eyes were bloodshot and red-rimmed. He could see the faint acne scars of her youth, dotted across her jaw. She looked so tired. To Nicky, she was the most beautiful woman in the world. He was so mad at her.</p><p>“Do you want me to?”</p><p>She blinked in quick succession like something had caught in her eyes. She squeezed his shoulders, her nails dug through the material of his jacket and he could feel the sharp bite of them. Her lips twitched. “You are just like him.” Nicky was only 11 then, he hadn’t understood what she had meant by those words. “Go to your room.”</p><p>He didn't see his mother for three days. And then there she was standing in the kitchen, clutching a bottle of wine, staring at the label. She startled when he greeted her.</p><p>“Nicolò,” she said and hugged him, careful not to smudge her make-up. Her lips painted ruby red. “My Nicolò.”</p><p>They never spoke of it again.<br/><br/><br/>“Joe is not like my mother.”</p><p>James' patience is admirable. “Your father--”</p><p>“What is he going do, James, forbid me from marrying Joe? Cut me out of his will? Publicly disown me?” Nicky knows he's being unfair. He takes a deep breath. “I’m sorry. I should not take out my frustrations on you.”</p><p>“You do not need to apologise to me, Nicolò. I understand this is difficult, but there is no way around it.”</p><p>When he hangs up, Nicky presses the heel of his hands against his eyes and resists the urge to call Joe. He knows Joe’s in rehearsals and won’t be able to answer. He knows he should be afraid of how much he needs Joe, how much he already misses him. The sound of his voice, the way his skin feels under Nicky’s hands, the taste of him. Joe would never leave him, suddenly and without warning. Joe would never run away to another man.</p><p>Joe is nothing like his mother.</p><p>And yet, something nags at him. He remembers the sharp dig of nails, the cloying scent of her perfume, the sharp stutters of her breath. The way she looked at him before she left, and the way she looked at him when she returned.</p><p>He thinks about all the things he would do to keep Joe. And in one sobering moment, Nicky allows himself to consider just how much he could be like his father.</p><p> </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0007"><h2>7. Chapter 7</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Shoutout to lumas - we shared the same headcanon of Nile being an up-and-comer and thus I was inspired to finish writing this chapter!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>When asked, Nile will always say <em> Codename: Scythian </em>is one of her all-time favourite movies. She knows it’s not the cool answer for someone coming through the indie film route, but she honestly loves it. She loves seeing Andy run around, kicking people in the face with sensible boots; exuding competency and confidence in both a fitted dress with a scandalously high-cut slit and in a tailored suit buttoned up to her throat. She loves the wry humour of the slow pan up Joe’s body whenever he enters a scene, and how he’s needlessly shirtless for a third of the movie.</p><p>Mostly, she loves that iconic tango scene. Andy and Joe, both in beautifully tailored tuxedos, in a subtle push-and-pull as they both try to lead. Their faces close together, expressions fighting to remain neutral. It ends with Andy dipping Joe. It was the sexiest thing teenage Nile had ever seen. They hadn’t even kissed. Andy just smirked at him and Joe had just <em>looked</em> at her. Nile’s gaze darted between Andy’s sharp eyes, and Joe’s parted lips, and she realised <em>oh.</em> <em>I am extremely bisexual</em>. So yes, the movie holds a tender place in Nile’s heart.</p><p>She musters all her self-control to not blurt this all out to real-life Joe, who is standing right in front of her. Joe, who had been minding his own business when Nile rounded a corner with all the confidence of someone who had declared they weren’t <em> that </em> drunk only a minute earlier to her mother and brother as they headed back to the hotel, and marched right into Joe’s unsuspecting back.</p><p>“Hello, Nile.” He greeted her warmly. He said her name like he knew her. Like they were friends.</p><p>She remembers belatedly that they’re at the after party for her movie, a movie she starred in. Her first <em> real </em>movie. It would make sense that Joe would know who she is.</p><p>(Later, she will learn Joe and Andy had skipped the premiere so they wouldn't draw attention away from Quynh and the cast.)</p><p>Still, she is starstruck.</p><p>Don’t stare, she tells herself sternly. She’s concentrating so hard on not embarrassing herself with oversharing and not-staring, she realises too late she’s completely missed everything Joe has said after she heard her name. He's eyeing her curiously, like he's waiting for an answer.</p><p>“Um,” Nile says. She’s not proud that this is the first word - sound, really- she makes at Joe. She will omit this when she retells this story to her brother. “Yeah?”</p><p>She feels her belly swoop when he smiles at her. She can’t help but beam right back at him.</p><p>With a gentle hand at her elbow, Joe guides her towards the far corner of the room. The crowd parts before them with such ease, Nile wonders how she can gain this superpower.</p><p>She sees Andy sitting across from a very serious-looking man. She’s a little relieved, at least she knows Andy. Somewhat. Quynh had introduced them the first time Andy came on set to visit her wife. She had a painfully similar experience with Andy as she had with Joe and she really hopes this isn’t going to be an ongoing pattern. The odds are not in her favour that she will be able to hold it together for a third time in the face of someone she admires.</p><p>“Hey, kid.” Andy tips her shot glass at her in greeting. And if it were anyone else, Nile would take umbrage with being referred to as a kid. She knows Andy isn’t the most outwardly affectionate person. She recalls Quynh wrapping an arm around her shoulders at the end of a long day. “I know Andy and I aren’t supposed to have a favourite,” Quynh told her. “But you are absolutely our favourite.”</p><p>Nile smiles at her.</p><p>“Nicky,” Joe says, “this is Nile. Remember this face." He sounds so proud, Nile feels her face flush. "She is going to be a star.”</p><p>Nicky, she thinks. Oh shit. Joe’s husband.</p><p>“Hello, Nile.” He stands and pulls out the seat beside her. He gestures. “Please, take a seat.” It’s so oddly formal, Nile wants to laugh. But standing this close, Nicky’s expression looks surprisingly earnest. She sits.</p><p>Joe points to Andy. “Your wife bestowed upon me the urgent quest to return you into her arms."</p><p>Andy laughs. “How drunk is she?”</p><p>“Extremely.”</p><p>She downs her shot while rising to her feet. She slams the glass down with relish. “To my wife!” She declares and drags Joe with her.</p><p> </p><p>If Nile were a gambler, she would have put a lot of money on Nicky being someone who preferred to sit in silence rather than make awkward small talk. So, of course, she blurts out, “How was the wedding?”</p><p>She cringes. She doesn’t like to indulge too much in celebrity gossip, but she would also be the first to admit she has been suckered into clickbait headlines. And, really, you couldn't open a web browser or social media platform without being accosted with Joe and Nicky news. Everyone, whether they liked it or not, had an opinion. Early on in their relationship, Nile found herself leaning more towards the dubious camp. It had all happened very quickly and nobody knew anything about Nicky. It was the very definition of a whirlwind romance.</p><p>Before Nicky, Joe and Danny had been <em>the</em> couple - men of colour, openly gay, successful in their field - and two years strong. Neither of them commented on the demise of their venerated relationship. But a few weeks after the engagement was made public, Danny's divisive interview was published. The timing was, at best, questionable. Nothing was explicitly said but the heavy implication was both parties had strayed, and in that Danny had supposedly expressed remorse. He wore the face of the broken-hearted. Joe never responded and many saw his silence as a sign of culpability. There was an outpouring of sympathy for Danny, but it had never sat right with Nile. She was never able to articulate why so she only sent back a thinky-face emoji to her brother when he shared the link to the interview.</p><p>And now here she is, in what feels like lightyears from that WhatsApp chat, casually asking Nicolò DiGenoa about his wedding.</p><p>The Wedding was all anyone had been talking about. It was so secretive. All that was known was the location and the date. No photos had been leaked, no secret sources came forward with juicy details. It was a media blackout in which the modern celebrity world had never seen. Nile couldn’t even comprehend what the cost would have been for such digital and physical privacy. </p><p>“They have more money than the Queen.” Her brother had helpfully told her, as he scrolled through his Twitter feed. “It’s so romantic.”</p><p>And it was, she supposes. A movie star and the youngest son of a family so old and so rich their lineage could be traced back to Italy’s abolished monarchy. It was a romance unseen since Grace Kelly and Prince Albert of Monaco. Though she hopes they’ll have a less tragic end.</p><p> </p><p>All that to say, Nile is mortified that she asked such an invasive question. Of course she doesn’t expect Nicky to answer. And as the seconds tick by, she’s prepared to kick her heels off and make a run for it.</p><p>She opens her mouth to apologise when Nicky says, “it was beautiful.” And then he’s holding out his phone and Nile is looking at a photo of Joe and Nicky facing each other, dressed in beautiful suits. Joe in a deep royal blue and Nicky’s a cool grey. The bright hues of the sunset, against the open sky and ocean, light them up. Joe’s head is tipped back in laughter. His eyes squeezed shut, mouth open. And Nicky is looking at him, eyes bright. A soft lift in the corner of his lips.</p><p>“You look so happy,” she says quietly, and maybe that's an odd thing to say. But they do. She can feel it. And even though he never asks it of her, Nile knows she'll never tell anyone about this, not even her brother. She wonders how many people have seen this photo, and how it is possible that she is one of them.</p><p>Nicky smiles at her as he tucks his phone away. “They may be some time. Would you like a drink?”</p><p>He lifts a hand and, if by magic, a waiter materialises beside them. She wonders if she’ll be able to learn this superpower, too.</p><p> </p><p>Nicky asks about her, about her family.</p><p>She tells him how she had wanted to be a marine, just like her father. But when he was killed in action, she had felt the dream shatter and couldn’t bear the thought of leaving her mother. In her grief, she had found solace in the theatre. She talks about her brother, how smart he is. How Jay and Dizzy urged her to send in that hail-Mary of an audition tape. She was in the grocery store parking lot when she got the call for an in-person audition. She’d almost dropped the carton of eggs she had been sent out to buy. </p><p>Nile doesn’t realise she’s doing all the talking until she finds herself reenacting how she stepped on her own gown at her graduation and face planted onto the stage. Her brother has the video on his phone and always threatens to tweet it whenever she does something that slightly inconveniences him.</p><p>When she sits back down, she’s hit by a wave of exhaustion. She had barely slept at all the night before. Too nervous, anxious, excited. She’d been inhaling caffeine all day and now, with all the alcohol thrumming through her body, she’s feeling it.</p><p>She picks up her glass, just for something to do, and sucks up the dredges of her diluted drink. Ice cubes long melted. She chews on the straw. Eyelids droopy.</p><p>“Tired?” Nicky looks a little concerned and Nile feels oddly touched by it.</p><p>She yawns. “Sorry.” She smiles sleepily. “A little.”</p><p>A solid thud snatches their attention. “Ow. <em> Andy</em>," says a muffled voice, sounding annoyed.</p><p>“Oops,” says Andy. “I didn’t see that.”</p><p>“You didn’t see the wall?”</p><p>There’s a high-pitched giggle that sounds very Quynh-like. “I’ll scout ahead. Make sure the path is clear.” And when Quynh darts into view, she grins at Nile and skips towards to envelop her in a hug.</p><p>Andy staggers in next, clutching Joe to her chest in a bridal carry. “See?” She says to Joe. “I told you I could carry you the whole way.”</p><p>“I didn’t say you couldn’t,” Joe answers. “I specifically asked you not to do it.”</p><p>Andy responds by dumping Joe onto Nicky’s lap. For a moment, there’s a lot of flailing limbs and Nile is impressed with how she’s avoided all of them despite her sluggish reflexes. It helps that Quynh is also smacking at them with both hands.</p><p>Once Joe is settled, Nile’s head valiantly loses its struggle against gravity and drops against Quynh’s shoulder, eyes sliding shut.</p><p>“Come on, kid,” Andy says from somewhere above her. “We’ll take you back to the hotel.” </p><p>Nile thinks about wiping off her make-up, taking a hot shower, and crawling into the queen-sized bed she’s sharing with her mom. Her brother, snoring in the other bed. She was offered her own room, but she wanted to be with her family, something reminiscent of her childhood vacations where all they had was a tiny room and each other. Cosy and familiar. She aches for it.</p><p>She takes hold of Andy’s outstretched hand and lets herself be hoisted up.</p><p>Nile glances back over her shoulder to say goodbye. Joe’s still on Nicky’s lap, both hands cradling Nicky’s face. Nicky has one arm wrapped around Joe’s waist and a hand resting on his thigh. They’re just looking at each other.</p><p>“Honeymoon phase?” She asks as Andy steers her towards the exit.</p><p>Quynh laughs. “No, that’s just Joe and Nicky.”</p><p>Andy squeezes her shoulder. "You'll get used to it."</p><p>Huh, Nile thinks, as she gets bundled into the waiting car, squished between Andy and Quynh, so this is my life now.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>I've somehow developed a lot of strong feelings for this 'verse. If it spirals into anything bigger it'll continue to be a series of snapshots of their lives.</p></blockquote></div></div>
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